Another weekend, another Maverick adventure… This time we were off down to the South west Coast to run the Exmoor X Series ultra. Some usual suspects for this one with Nick driving us down, Ale hopping in for his first ultra (that he didn’t want to do) and Carl also being roped in to tag along too for what would be his first Maverick event (not counting two weeks in Borneo!). Whatever lay ahead, there was sure to be lots of smiling and laughter with this group.
We knew it would be tough. Maverick don’t shy away from advertising this event as a difficult one. The nickname of ‘The Beast’ alone should be an indication of its difficulty. If not, the elevation profile with somewhere over 2,000m should give you all you need to know – there are some fruity climbs along the SWCP to be tackled in this event. We didn’t have any goals as, whatever time we’d finish, we had nowhere to be or go. We’d booked dinner in the hotel so had little to worry about. We estimated probably about 8 hours or so though.
As we sauntered down the start line, some time after the main pack of runners had already set off, Race Director Ben gave us some insight and that they’d clocked closer to 60km when marking up the course. Always good to know and to set the brain to a target distance! Bell ringing, we pranced off, down into and around the field as we began our journey along the coastal path.
Theme of the day was ‘Shit Slinging‘ a rather naughty, unhygienic but unapologetically funny game we’ve started playing on some runs. Without all the detail, you get points for kicking shit at each other. As simple as that. Into that first field there were legs flying everywhere. To anyone who saw us they must have been wondering what on earth we were up too. I think Carl stormed to an early lead.
After the first climb along an open hillside we hit onto some lovely trail paths that wound back down to the coast and to the Valley of Rocks. We’d stopped by here the night before for a post meal walk. It had incredible views and the sunset the night before was mesmerising. We turned right and ran along the coast path as I continued stopping at every opportunity to kick goat shit in the direction of the others. It even earned a little laugh from a lovely old couple who stepped aside to let us pass. We were enjoying ourselves! Rounding a blind corner I stopped to wait for Nick and pretend to ‘sling some shit’ at him, as I faked the manoeuvre, to my horror it wasn’t Nick but another runner he’d let passed. Oops. I don’t think he appreciated the fright!
Further ahead was Jake and Faye capturing the magic with the incredible back drop of the Valley of Rocks behind us. Fist bumps all round and a big cheer for Carl who they hadn’t seen since we left Borneo 16 months ago!
More magical footpaths saw us wind back down and around Lynmouth Harbour before we began the next climb. All along this section were familiar faces, first off Giffy climbing ahead of us along the woodland paths. Next up we found Rosie who was marshalling along a road section and making sure we’d not miss the turning. It was two years since we all met at the LoveTrails festival and camped together! It really feels like just yesterday that we met. Then. as the climb steepened along another open hillside, ‘Gaddy’ came up behind us. We’d met briefly for the first time queuing up at the toilets many hours earlier, but this was now a chance to properly say hello and have a chat before he powered on ahead.
As the climb came to an end at Countisbury, we began the decent along one of the more technical parts of the course, with loose scree and a sheer drop to the ocean. It was Phil who was lurking nearby to capture the incredible view for the runners at this spot. It was slow going here as a bottleneck began to form on the single track path. Shortly after reaching the bottom, we arrived at the first aid station and spent quite some time joking and chatting with Justin, the other RD and Maverick Founder.
From here we enjoyed several miles of undulating coastal path, with sections winding through beautiful lush green forests. It was so peaceful and tranquil that it was easy to loose yourself and enjoy the run, even though at times the bottlenecks would form again on the tight and narrow paths. We were fortunate that we didn’t encounter too many walkers and hikers as there were a lot of runners now bunched together.
There was another steep climb to navigate as we first climbed through the forest tracks before tackling the bulk of the climb through open fields in the heat of the midday sun. Up top, several runners broke for a rest as we plodded along after the course split. More undulating miles before we dropped down into the seaside town or Porlock Weir. Here we could smell the cooking of fresh seafood and smoky BBQs on the go. Thankfully though our next aid station was here and our bellies didn’t mis out.
I didn’t know at the time, but this aid station was supported by Justin’s parents. It was by far the best one and possibly the best aid station I’ve ever had the pleasure of stopping at during a maverick event. Pineapple. my favourite fruit and so refreshing. Mrs B was chopping away and could barely keep up as I kept taking chunks of fresh pineapple. Washed down with salted potatoes, crisps, sweats, biscuits and Milka cake bars (another new discovery for me, these were delicious). We had a good 10 minutes here and continued chatting with Justin as he arrived to check up on everything. It was a good stop and much needed. Nick was experiencing an early bonk and was struggling for some energy it was a good opportunity for him to eat and the cooked potatoes were another great addition to the aid station spread!
Refuelled, we headed back out. We knew the next section was going to be tough as it was the largest climb of the course. a straight up 400m climb. Not something to be scoffed at. No way to tackle it other than steady, relentless plodding forward. One thing at the back of my mind that was empowering here was knowing that, as we climbed, we were gradually turning back on the loop at West Porlock. Once we’d reach the top, we’d be around halfway through and from here on in running back in the direction of the finish. Always a good feeling. Part way up we met Gaddy again and soon after the summit he joined us and we all ran along together for a little while.
This part of the route was more of the same with a few little climbs and descents separated with undulating trails through open hilltops and dense forest footpaths. It really was a beautiful course and such a variety of terrains and footpaths. We’d been leapfrogging a number of other runners at this point and occasionally split into smaller groups chatting away with each other. After narrowly missing a headshot at Nick, an opportunity presented itself with some fresh (goat?) shit lining up in my path directly behind Carl. Like a pro I swung my leg and struck the sweetest of shit slings with a direct hit on Carl’s arm. He was not happy, understandably so. Me, I was in hysterics. I thought I was so funny. I told you it isn’t glamourous!
The fun soon came to an end though when a few of the group were running back towards us. Somehow we’d gone wrong. I remember seeing a sign that was pointing one way and I’d clearly misinterpreted its direction. The course marking was good, we’d fucked up. Running back on ourselves we were now behind most of the groups of runners we’d passed sometime ago, including ‘Hop-a-long’ and ‘Bagel-man’. Other runners always have endearing nicknames to us. All was not lost though as we embarked on a really enjoyable downhill section with incredible views over the town of Oare. It really was beautiful and an enjoyable downhill. We stopped briefly to chat with Chris and another who were doing some course clearing / marking and gave them the heads up that there was a sign that was easily misinterpreted. We carried on our way before arriving at the next aid station.
Here Justin was yet again. Doing an incredible job on the organising. Stuffing our faces yet again, we were chatting away when I noticed a few things. Firstly the runners at the aid station were looking a little worse for wear. It was a very challenging course and understandable to be feeling that way. We probably had about 10 miles (and a good few hours) still ahead of us. Secondly, I noticed Nick was coming out of his slump. The food was going in and his energy levels were higher than they were previously. I saw the opportunity and hurried us all along and back onto the course before he started peaking and hitting a sugar rush. I wanted us to be on the move when that happened.
Restarting began with an enjoyable downhill section before we hit the beautiful and pristine area of Brendon. Somewhere here we were greeted by an emu too! A volunteer directed us along the course with a cheerful “please be respectful” and we soon found out why. the section was delightful and we passed through a country house were the owner came out to confirm we were too pass through their property. he wished us well and cheered us on.
From here we picked up the riverside path that ran along side the East Lyn River. Justin had told us that the second half of the route was delightful and he wasn’t lying. After the pleasure of the SWCP earlier in the day, winding along the river bed with more undulating footpaths was glorious. The dense woodlands offered us plenty of shade and Carl and Ale powered us along at a steady pace. this section flew by in no time at all and before we knew it we were back out on a road and nearing the next aid station.
We were doing a bit of math now. I thought we’d have less than 9km to go, Ale and Carl were estimating closer to the 9km. At the aid station they told us it was 12km to go. Gaaah. We weren’t’ convinced though. Surely it was slightly off otherwise our GPS really couldn’t be trusted! With a big cheer and sadistic laugh we were sent off on our next climb which was probably the steepest of the last four facing us. Ale was holding up and was well beyond the Ultra territory now. Not bad for someone a few days earlier had been told by a physio to not run more than 5km! I’m sure he was enjoying it in his own way, but he was vocal about how boring it was. He’s lucky there was no shit around at this point to kick at him.
In-between the next climb was an incredible section of downhill switch backs. the paths were so fun to run and it really did remind me of some of the overseas locations. Steep climbs, rocky technical footpaths, dense green forests and winding footpaths rather than the typical rolling hill climbs of other national parks. I was beaming and really enjoying the area. Shame it really is so far to drive to from London!
We soon passed by Lynton and the Gulf petrol station at Barbrook which we’d driven passed several times already this weekend. from here we knew it wasn’t far to go. We’d now just be circling around the main road (which wouldn’t be safe to run along) before crossing directly opposite from the campsite/finish line. First up one last climb that I agree was quite dull, wide long gravel roads. The beautiful day was going grey and it was starting to try to rain. Into the deep end now, nothing left but to grin and bare it. head down, keep moving. With a few km to go we passed Brit and some other maverick Volunteers who cheered us across. Just the last road section to the campsite and down hill into the finish line.
All four of us, side by side we crossed that line like we had 9 hours earlier. We took our medals and the never ending amount of freebies from Maverick and joined the many familiar faces sitting down. Reka who’d finished many hours earlier (a machine she is!) was asking us if we’d seen Gif. It really had been a long time since we saw her waaaaay back before that first aid station. I went back to the car to get some warmer clothes and we soon saw Gaddy cross the line too. As we hopped in the car to head back for Dinner, Gif was coming down the final straight.
That night we were all very tired and exhausted. Thankfully we didn’t have to hobble far for dinner which was absolutely brilliant too. The next morning we began the next ultra – the long drive back to London…
Since I started writing down my memories and running adventures, I’ve also summarised each year in a single blog. No different this year, only the content is a little blurred and includes a bit more personal snippets than I usually care to divulge, this being my running blog and all!
So where do I begin? Chronologically of course, but is it possible to recap the year that was 2020 without mentioning “the situation”. Probably not. It sucked for most people. Covid-19 that is. I don’t want to focus on it, but I have to acknowledge it. Like everyone else, it wasn’t the year we expected or planned for. So what started off looking like another action packed year of adventure with races spread across the year ended up being more fragmented with an unbelievable adventure followed by months of lockdown, a frantic flourish of running adventures before ending the year back in lockdown. It really was a year of good, bad and ugly running…
Way back in January, in the shadow of Brexit, I left the UK late on the evening of the 31st January and began my planned adventures as I flew to New Zealand. The concern of Covid was becoming real and changes at airports and public places were starting to be seen. One week spent exploring the North island of New Zealand with the ‘Trail Maggots’ made me forget all about it. I felt untouchable on the other side of the planet. So off to Rotorua we went as I kicked off my year of running with my virgin ‘miler’ – the 100 mile Tarawera Ultra Marathon. My journey had begun with, once again, my biggest challenge yet!
Tarawera – What an experience! What a physically and mentally draining experience at that. But what a rewarding one. Crossing that finish line after 27 hours running around the spectacular lakes, mountains and waterfalls made me feel invincible. A hero to myself. Inside, my achievement gave me that warm satisfactory glow we all desire. I wore my finishers pounamu for weeks. Less so out of pride and more out of fear of losing it. I’ll never earn another medal like it!
Straight after Tarawera I spent another two weeks exploring the South Island of New Zealand with incredible adventures planned with Jorge, Natalia and Sean. I was now officially back at work (remotely) and was fortunate to be able to manage my time and squeeze in plenty of runs and hikes with the others. I didn’t want it to end, this was a dream. I still think about it. The space. The mountains. The tranquillity. New Zealand is a phenomenal place.
Next stop, for another week of work before two more weeks of holiday, was a stop over in Bali for a small piece of rest from running and hiking which, sadly for me, didn’t live up to the touristy hype. The places I visited in Bali were beautiful and dreadful at the same time. Still, I met Amir a few times on my travels here, ran around the Mt Batur volcano rim and recuperated a little ahead of the next adventure.
The next one really was the adventure of a lifetime. Adventures in Borneo. So much to say here. The Maverick team. Joanna, Richard and all the guys at Adventures in Borneo. The group of other runners, all the guides. The jungle. The rivers. The pineapples. The warm and welcoming Borneons… What a country. What an adventure. The only thing that would have made two weeks of running around Borneo (and seeing Orangutans) would be to have finished it off with a race. Oh, wait… I did! On the last day of my adventure I ran the Borneo Ultra Trail Marathon and finished in the top ten ahahaha what?! Told you it was like a dream!
The dream quickly became more of a nightmare though as I left Borneo as they entered a nationwide lockdown and made my way back to the UK. I had just two weeks left in my job and I was now panicking about where the work will come from as, the moment I touched down I was advised to collect my laptop and work from home for the remainder of my contract. The UK I’d returned to was unrecognisable. And not because of Brexit which had dominated our lives for so many years. Within a week of my return the UK had too entered a state of emergency and a national lockdown soon began.
Two weeks after I’d flown home, I joined thousands of others in the rapidly growing unemployment community as the lockdown was enforced and the future became bleaker. I was lost. I was worried. Coming back from 6 weeks away to find I was now out of work was not ideal. Still I was thankful. I had a roof over my head, my health and some savings. I tried to remain positive but did find I was bored very quickly. Even doing all those DIY tasks I’d put off for so long and getting involved with various Instagram challenges (including walking steps everyday throughout April) didn’t occupy my mind enough. Turns out work really does give us a purpose in life! A fortunate turn of events in May meant I did find work again thankfully. I was one of the lucky ones.
And so lockdown continued. Race after race was cancelled. I, like many others faffed about rearranging flights, accommodations and trying to recoup money wherever I could (and now in December still am!). The lockdown brought other benefits though. I found myself running semi frequently. Although starting work again I soon fell out of this routine as I struggled to adapt to a new one entirely built around staying in my bedroom for the majority of the day working. Then, a new challenge lay on the horizon though and my running increased once more. The Centurion Running Community One event. I planned it with a personal challenge – to run the entire Capital Ring route with Paul. What an adventure, what a challenge, I was focused once more. In June, just as lockdown began to ease, we set off on an incredible adventure and a challenging one given the circumstances (access to food, water and support along the way was severely impacted). In just a few weeks though I’d refocused my mind, had a purpose once more and even managed to explore many new routes locally within London in the build up.
Fortunately, as the summer progressed, I maintained running thanks to the series of virtual events organised by Maverick Race. I’ve never been one to get involved with virtual events but these were with a difference. It wasn’t just a “off you go, do what you want” approach. They set up their event village and joined in with us each time and flooded social media throughout the day. It did feel like the closest substitute for a real event and provided a buzz that had been missing for so long. What a community!
In the middle of it all there was also a trip to Chelmsford to run with Joe. Joe and I, along with some others, had been doing various press-up challenges throughout lockdown and out of the blue Joe decided he wanted to run a marathon. So he did. With just a few runs under his belt he jumped straight in and ran a full marathon. What a guy!
As the lockdown restrictions continued and the cancellations came one after the other, wiping out my race plans, I was thrown another unexpected challenge. I had a place in two races on the same day in August and I hadn’t yet pulled out of either. The trip to Norway was inevitably cancelled but the Centurion Running NDW100 was still hoping to proceed. Suddenly, I was in line for another 100 miler again 6 months after my first. How had this happened!? This wasn’t the plan.
With just two months to re-plan and yet again refocus my mind for the next challenge, it is fair to say the training and build up was utter pants. I’m sure it was for everyone with the uncertainty. Truth is, by this point I came to accept that I’ve wrecked my body. My legs ached and hurt constantly. I’ve said it for a while. My approach is not sustainable. I can’t keep running so many long distance events and take the weeks off in between. I need to get back to a consistent level of running and training. The consistency I started to see at the beginning of lockdown was a thing of the past. But, hands up, I’m an addict. I can’t stop myself looking for the next challenge and signing up to more events and places to explore. I can’t convince myself to rest, repair and begin again. Maybe that would be my next challenge – To find wisdom and search for that sensible bone in my body, before I break that too.
And so, August came…. Further lockdown easing along with changes to operations and protocols meant England Athletics started to agree permits for running events to begin again. NDW had been given the green light. 100 miler numero deux was on. It was happening.
It was a formidable challenge. Turns out a heat wave decided to hit the UK that week. As if it wasn’t going to be hard enough already now we had temperatures of high 30s to battle against also. Battle I did and with the help of Nick and Jon as my crew and pacers I earned my 100 mile buckle to go with my Pounamu. 55% of runners DNF’d that day. Perhaps I was still benefiting from running in New Zealand and Borneo earlier that year and had some heat acclimatisation still!
The following week I returned, hobbling, to my favourite event – the Stour Valley Path 100 – for my fourth time. This time though, not as a runner. I volunteered to earn my yellow Tee and give back to an event that I partly hold responsible for my fascination (obsession?) with ultra running. Thanks Mathew! After experiencing the Covid protocols from a running perspective the week before at the NDW100, it was surreal to experience it from the volunteer side that weekend and be part of ensuring the safety and wellbeing of other runners chasing their goals.
Two weeks later came my first ever DNS (‘Did Not Start’) at the Wild Boar ultra in Bulgaria. We felt it wasn’t right to be swanning off and travelling the world during a pandemic so, instead, I went to Brecon with Jon and co. It was a sort of gentle easing back into running after the rigours of the NDW. I could have risked it and gone to Bulgaria but it wouldn’t have been the adventure I signed up for without all the others there too. Plus, I found the comparably small hills along the North Downs Way far more challenging than I expected. My Mountain legs were gone and I really would have struggled with the elevation of the Bulgarian mountains!!
After the adventures in Brecon, I was now booked into a double weekender with the Farnham Pilgrims marathon the day after the Eden Valley 50km. Earlier in the summer, as races were cancelled I started to book replacements. This worked out well as races started to get the go ahead but with limited places, they were selling out fast! The Eden valley Ultra was a joy. My first run with the Runaway Racing team and a beautiful looped course just South-East of London. The sun was shining for a super warm Indian summer day. I met Arlene and Jon and set off alone to chase a sub 6 hour finish. Coming in about 5 hours 20 with a big smile on my face I headed back to London to rest ahead of the following Day’s adventure.
The Farnham Pilgrims Marathon was also far better than I expected. Only because It ran along some of the NDW100 route, I assumed it would all be too familiar, but it wasn’t. The sandy course took me through parts of Surrey Hills I’d never explored before and I enjoyed running in the sun once more. The legs definitely felt the pains from the previous day and I completed the marathon in a similar time of just over 5 hours. The support from the Rotary Club throughout the event was top notch. We were well looked after despite the restrictions they had to put in place.
Shortly after my double weekend, we received confirmation that the Cappadocia Ultra Trail in the Urgup region of Turkey was cancelled. We’d expected this and thankfully I hadn’t booked the flights to Turkey yet and didn’t have to worry about chasing any additional refunds. I deferred to 2021 and started crossing my fingers once again. I’ve heard such amazing stories of Urgup and I’m itching to get out their and explore.
September was finished off with my maiden trip to the Peak District with the Maverick Race and their X Series event. This was my first of the X Series events and I was excited to pop my Peak District cherry too. The weekend was fantastic, travelling and exploring with Nick, Ale and Maria. Nick and I ran the whole route together and were accompanied with Daisy who we found at the start line. It had been almost a year since we’d run together and it was great to catch up and hear about all the changes in the last year.
I had such a good time in the Peak District I immediately told the Maverick team I was available to volunteer at their Surrey Hill events the following weekend after my own plans for that weekend were cancelled. A group of us made the way down from London to help out which involved running part of the course, marshalling a road crossing, screaming and shouting into the rain and then helping sweep up the course markings after the final runners. It was good to be out volunteering again and it made me reflect on the different volunteer roles I’d supported events with over the past year. Definitely reach out to event organisers and offer up your support if you are contemplating volunteering.
Still high with excitement I managed to bag a last minute place in Maverick’s X Series Dorset ultra too. I was hooked. Ignoring the recurring aches and pains from all the running I’d been doing. At this point I couldn’t shift my mind from thinking that, all going to plan, with the remaining events I had booked in I’d be able to hit my 50th Marathon (official event of a marathon distance or longer) before the end of the year. It was a goal, a target now!
Maverick Dorset was like picking up exactly where we left off a few weeks earlier. A group of us headed down to the coast and the next morning left the starting line together for another 54km adventure. Through the morning rays we stuck together laughing and enjoying our adventure for 30kms or so until we split off into pairs to finish the day. More beers and Jimmy’s coffee awaited at the finish line before we headed back to the hotel to stuff our faces on some amazing fish and chips like champions.
The following weekend I was heading down to the somewhat familiar trails of the Beachy Head Marathon – I’ve run this course before, on the 30th December 2017, just as I started getting into trail running. But that was a social, group run. It wasn’t an organised event and now it was finally time to go and experience the route under race conditions. It was a tough day as I did set myself a time target for this event. After speaking with Paul and the cancellation of our planned trip to the lake district, I was now planning to be pacing Paul to a sub 20 hour finish on his SDW100 run in a few weeks time. With some incredibly basic math, I needed to be sure I could comfortably run a sub 5 hour marathon on the South Downs. This was my opportunity and I set out and achieved just that. It did give me some confidence as I’ve become so used to just plodding along and enjoying myself too much to care about finish times!
The next day, I headed back down to Eastbourne to help Jon crew Elisa and Lou on their South Downs Way 50 miler. It was great to be back on the other side of the fence and supporting and cheering once more. The girls were phenomenal and both ran a brilliant race to beat their goal and target time. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone mess about and enjoy a 50 mile run quite as much as they did!
I was now heading into a busy period with more back to back marathons and ultras. Next up was another first, the inaugural Wild Trail Runners Marathon as organised by Weronika. A few months earlier I’d offered to help support and run the route with her. The aim was to complete a trail marathon in 6 hours. No pressures. I just needed to help guide some runners depending on the numbers and local restrictions. It was back on the North Downs Way and running from Guildford to Merstham once more. There were about 13 of us so we split into two smaller groups and set off for what we knew would be a wet and miserable day. It certainly was wet, but not miserable as we slipped and slid along the trails. Sadly two runners dropped out before we reached Box hill so we reformed into the original larger group when Weronika and her runners caught up with us. Weronika pulled off a fantastic day and we were all treated to a Wild TR branded beer and a homemade medal for our efforts. I didn’t know then, but it was likely that this bonus medal was to be my last and final medal of 2020…
Arriving home that Saturday evening, everyone’s least favourite Boris announced that England would be back into lock down for a month. Within hours it was confirmed, the SDW100 was cancelled – I’d no longer be pacing next week. The Wendover Woods 50km was also cancelled and soon after it was confirmed too that the Camino Lea Valley ultra would also go the same way. My adapted plans to complete my 50th marathon in 2020 were over. There were bigger things at stake once more and rightly so.
This set me thinking. It was time to do the sensible thing. It only took a second bloody lockdown for some sense to be knocked into me. It was time to rest. With the Cheviot Goat scheduled to be just 4 days after the lockdown was proposed to end, my expectations for it to go ahead were small. My intentions to start the event if it did proceed, they were becoming increasingly smaller… a few weeks later it was indeed cancelled and I deferred to 2021.
And so it was the most opportune time to rest I would have for the past 3 years. 2020 has taken its toll on me physically. I achieved a lot. A helluva lot! 3 of my 5 furthest runs had been completed this year. I did it without any structured or even routined training. I lost a lot of fitness and winged a lot of my events. I relied on my brain and experience (no bad thing!) and to some degree just shrugged my shoulders and got on with it. I was in physical pain. For months now, during each run, no matter the distance, my right leg hurt. It started with a calf pain after the Tarawera Ultra Marathon in February. It morphed into a shin pain after I ran the Capital Ring. Then since the end of summer it was my ankle that was the problem. It was weak. It felt brittle. It hurt a lot even when I wasn’t doing anything. My mindset was simply to normalise it. If it doesn’t hurt any more intensely when I run, then I’ll just keep on running. After the last marathon in October, I had similar pain in my left ankle too. Great, twatty twins for legs. Constant pain wasn’t a good enough reason to stop and rest in my mind. But, Boris had thrown me a lifeline. An opportunity. I had nothing to run for in the next four weeks. Removing the Cheviot Goat from the equation meant I had no goal or focus until the beginning of 2021. Suddenly I had time to stop. Time to rest, to repair and then to rebuild. My Lockdown plan became clear in my head. I planned to not run (yes! Not to run!) for 6 weeks. 6 weeks without pounding the ground, 6 weeks with a shift to low impact exercise to maintain fitness and strength. 6 weeks to allow my body to heal. I’d then start again, easy and low mileage and build it up gradually. The goal was to give myself a chance, a chance to get through 2021, as the way things are lining up, 2021 will fuck me up even more than 2020 did! What I was doing was not sustainable. A new approach is needed, a new beginning was required.
This had become my biggest challenge and thankfully the lockdown removed a lot of the temptation to run which made it easier. It didn’t however remove the temptation to plan and sign up to more events which I succumbed to way too easily. I made it through 5 of the 6 weeks. I was happy with that. I could have made it to 6 but I started exposing myself to running again and the temptation became too much. I felt good. I felt like I’d had a strong and consistent 5 weeks and vowed to continue the strength training, yoga and cycling that I’d reintroduced to my daily routine. 2021 was inching closer and I had new goals and targets to prepare for…
That was the year wrapped up. 2021 is now full of deferrals and substitutes and packed more tightly than 2020. 2020 started amazing, went rockier than the Trans Gran Canaria of 2018, but, somehow, I ended the year with almost 50 marathons under my belt (by completing another 8 official events). Wow, how did this happen? I vividly remember telling people about my plans to do my first ultra just 3 years ago. Here I go though, cracking on, I’ll hit that 50 milestone in 2021 for sure and might as well target the 100 at some point. For fucksake Dai…
Final Thoughts….I am in control. My happiness is paramount and everyday I have the courage and ability to protect that happiness. 2020 came with challenges, heartbreak, fear and more worries than I’m comfortable with. Difficult decisions and obvious sacrifices were needed and there were plenty of mistakes made along the way. Whether it is running or my personal life, I know I can, I’m sure I can and I will and I do. I trust myself and know I’ll never forget what I can control and what I can change to achieve what I set out after.
In last year’s recap I noted down some standout memories, so I thought why not, lets do it again…
The lakes of the Tarawera 100 Miler in New Zealand. Just stunning.
Borneo Ultra Trail. The mountainous landscape and dense jungle forests and Mount Kinabalu as the backdrop
Maverick Peaks. Talk about unadulterated skylines. Hardly a building in sight. Not the highest, but a spectacular landscape.
North downs Way. I didn’t set out to do a second hundred mile event in 2020. But as I approached it, I did want to make sure that the first one wasn’t a fluke. This was supposed to be easier than the first. It turned out to be harder. One of the toughest I’ve done. A heat wave in the UK, my body was drained. My mind was constantly fighting. The 55% DNF rate says it all. I’m proud to have completed this one.
Borneo Ultra Trails. The heat and humidity on this race is by far the worst I’ve ever experienced. It was a long hard day out in the jungles of Borneo. Powered by fresh Pineapple and a rest of well over an hour where I didn’t stop sweating at the halfway mark got me through. Jumping on a 15 hour flight 10 hours after finishing was probably not the best decision I’ve ever made!
Let it be known that you can measure the difficulty of a run by your love of the Chair! The state of me!
Tarawera. My first 100 miler. Like any first, it will linger in your memories forever. What a place to experience my first 100 miler. Everything about this event was fantastic. I’ll never forget this achievement.
Best Kit Bought
Tough one, I’ve not had to buy much this year as I already own far more kit than I need. Almost by default it goes to the Adidas Terrex Agravic Split Shorts. Less the ‘best’ and more the ‘new’ item of kit I’ve enjoyed the most – I needed new shorts. The shorts are proper short but kitted out for trail running with multiple waistband pockets and pole holders. They are made of pretty much no material (not reflected in the ridiculously expensive price!) but are so comfortable to wear.
Most overused Kit
Inov8 Roclite 275G. Damn these shoes are like slippers and boy are they tough and hard wearing. They’ve been on all the big runs in the last year. I’ve now switched to using them for the last half of these races (which in a few cases have still been 80km runs!) as they are so comfortable and offer great protection when my feet are a little worse for wear. The Graphene grip is fantastic too.
Squirrels Nut Butter. You don’t run 100s of miles without chafing and the Nut Butter is by far the best anti-chafe solution I’ve used. My skin would be non existent without this!
Fav Race Swag
Maverick Race won this one. For all their events, besides a medal you get items from their many sponsors. Iced Coffee, beer, protein bars, protein shakes. Whatever goes on the day of the event you are doing. One thing is for sure, when you finish, you struggle to carry everything you’ve just been given. Most generously, this was also reflected in the virtual event series Maverick put on in 2020 with many vouchers, discounts and stickers arriving in the post for the events you completed. These guys know how to please us!
There were a lot of dogs on the trails this year. There were two standout candidates though…
The late comer that was Bruce with his little bowtie – a ‘borrow my doggy’ dog that Nick started bringing on runs. Boy can this lil’ fella run and he’s the quietest dog I’ve ever met.
Then there was little Bonnie who took us on a run around the Thursley Nature Reserve in Surrey. She started off unsure, but a few hours later was chasing me around the field.
Thought of the year
“That was a good few miles of running!!” After what would always turn out to be just a few 100m of running during the tail-end of the NDW100 event. Time and distance were certainly distorted for me!
When Nick offered me painkillers in the NDW100 my response was “nope, don’t fuck with the boys in the Command Centre“. Got to keep the mind clear and stay focused, pain and discomfort is a remainder of the reality of the situation.
Fav Trail snack
Pineapple. I’ve never tasted pineapple as good as that fresh pineapple growing on the Pineapple Ridge in Borneo. It has always been my favourite fruit but this took it to a new level!
Without doubt the Tarawera 100 mile finisher Pounamu. I will probably never receive such a fantastic finishers gift again. Personal, chosen by me from the hundreds of variants on the finishers table. Earned, not bought. This is something else!
Most memorable moments
Running around London with Paul. it made for a great Strava map!
Finishing the NDW100 knowing that it meant the first 100 miler I finished wasn’t just a fluke.
The end of the rest period!! I was glad to be back running again.
Most beneficial training
Toss up between stairs (again) and yoga. Let’s go for yoga. 20 minutes a day has now become part of my routine. Never have I stretched so much in my life! To be fair, I did try yoga for the first time in the most spectacular of places in Borneo…
2020 was not all that bad it seems, but lets not be too positive – let’s get some miserable shit in here as well this year, simply because I’m a grumpy Grinch…
Most irritating comments of the year
“This must be easy for you”. This always feels like some sort of backhanded compliment smothered in self pity at the same time. Here’s the thing, no, no its not. No run is ever easy and they can’t be compared. For example, having run a longer distance previously doesn’t make a shorter distance run any more achievable or certain.
“What’s your next race / what have you got lined up?”. I may just be a grumpy twat, but this always feels like a bit of small talk and an opener for someone to just brag to you about what they have coming up.
“I couldn’t do what you do”. That’s bollocks. You can. Anyone can. I’m not special. What you’re really saying though is “I don’t want to do what you do”, because if you did want too, you would.
Social Media trends that annoyed me the most
Boosting one’s self worth by offering some much needed “top” tips to nobody who asked… oh it’s warm, top tip – drink water and hydrate when you run. Never thought of that one. No one cares.
Advertising the water repellent fabric on your (gifted) trainers by running through tiny puddles. Sigh. No one cares.
Measuring your trail running CV by the amount of mud on your shoes/socks/legs. Well done. No one cares.
The ongoing need to demonstrate one’s resilience to weather by captioning that you are wearing shorts. Congrats, we can see that. Guess what… No one cares.
The Instagram inception stories… you know the ones where I share a story you tagged me in and then you share my story and I share your story of my story of your story and down the narcissistic rabbit hole we go. Yep, No one cares.
Posting a story of your own post on Instagram. Got to hit that “look at me” algorithm. Still, No one cares.
I could go on but I won’t because clearly I do care. Dammit.
Worst recurring song lyrics stuck in my head
“Have you ever put butter on a pop tart, its soo frikken gooood…” Cheers Nick. It’s been lodged in there for months
On my last few runs it has been “Scooter – Fck 2020” that has been stuck on loop. Every so catchy/terrible and certainly the song of the year.
Another weekend, another adventure with Maverick Race, this time down on the South West coast in Dorset. I was in two minds about this one. I wanted to do it, I was greedy for the trails and another Ultra, but I was hesitant as I have a few more events in October, November and December and am still feeling the aches from the rest of the year’s adventures. There was only going to be one winner in this decision and I signed-up. Along with some of the usual bunch of running mates we headed down to Wareham on the Friday evening for another weekend away…
At the beginning of the event I dashed to the Adidas Terrex stand to try on some trainers. I recently bought some of the Two Ultra Parley trainers in my usual size and they were huge. A nice comfortable fit around the feet, but long, very long. There was a huge amount of space at the end of my toes. The guys at the stand were incredibly helpful and I came away with more confidence in their sizing as well as a new headband. Result, happy days.
Whilst lining up and queuing to start, Nick made a new friend. A beautiful and very calm husky with piercing eyes. We’d see his new mate again later on along the run. As we waited for Fiona to get through the registration queue we slowly made our way closer and eventually started near the back of the field of runners. There were a lot of people doing the ultra this time, or at least it felt like there were far more than what was in the Peak District a few weeks earlier.
We started off in pairs and after a short section in the forest we reformed into a small group of six – me, Nick, Maria, Jules, Charlotte and Fiona. For the rest of the morning we’d all run together chatting and joking away at every opportunity. We left the forest into a steady downhill along a road, turning left at a junction where there was a sheep-shaped sign for a farm. Shortly after this a runner ran passed in a recognisable Wild TR t-shirt and vanished into the distance. A cyclist coming the opposite way then told us to watch for wet feet. We were confused as it was a beautiful morning but soon realised what he meant when we saw the road ahead was all flooded. The group all started tiptoeing through the deep flood as I filmed and then ran straight through, splashing them and giggling like a kid. We all hoped the wet feet wouldn’t trouble us in 50km time and I immediately regretted the decision of wearing slightly thicker socks for this run!
After the puddle and some fields, we began a series of small and gentle climbs through the wide open space, surrounded by panoramic views with the morning sun shining down on us. It was far hotter than I expected as we climbed in the calm of the morning. We caught up with some of the dogs including Nick’s new buddy and carried onwards. At each opportunity I said a prolonged thank you to all the volunteers and marshals, it brought a smile to all our faces and I soon started to memorise the speech as I repeated it to each and every marshal we encountered.
The first outpost was then in our sights at the start of one of the more prominent climbs on the course. A group of people from a Tri-club were out supporting a team mate who was near us and we absorbed all their support as if it was intended for us. I stopped for water at the outpost as the others carried on and I caught them up towards the top of the climb as we approached a field full of cows on the top of the climb. The cows were standing their ground in the middle of the path and winning the battle against the runners who’d all deviate around them. 1-0 to the cows. From here we descended and I whizzed passed the others and momentarily took us the wrong way. Thankfully only by a few meters!
After crossing a busy road we climbed once more before reaching the second outpost where Ben was volunteering and keeping us going. A belly full of prawn cocktail crisps and we set back off for the next section of about 12km along the coast until the next outpost. We ran down through the village and started making our way towards the coastline.
As we hit the coast we started to walk the many short sharp climbs, running in between as we switched our gaze from the medieval ruins to the dramatic coastline and the calm sea with the sun glistening off the surface. There was very little wind and it was becoming a beautiful day. After the initial set of steps to climb we had a treat of a very steep down hill that immediately looped back up in an equally steep stepped climb. The steps were frustratingly deep and at a slight slant which made it difficult to maintain any real momentum without falling. We joked with and were cheered on by the many walkers out enjoying the climb too.
After more single track coastal trails we could see in the distance the cliffs dropped away and further ahead the dots of runners tracking inland along a long twisting gravel track and further on again even more distant runners looping back to the coast along what looked like a very, very steep climb. It felt like a long time before we reached it ourselves and indeed it was steep, with lots of steps. Nick pulled out the garlic bread (left over from the previous night’s meal) and started chomping away as we climbed. Big lunges once more taking us up the deep steps eroded into the hillside path.
The route was very undulating for the next five miles or so with very steep climbs broken up with lots of single tracks along the cliff edge. Many walkers and hikers kindly stepped aside to let us pass as they cheered us on.
A short while later, with lots of runners ahead and also behind us, we ran down towards an open public space in a cove where there was a public toilet with a tap. We were all gasping and mostly out of water and took turns filling our bottles and wetting our heads. We knew it was only a matter of meters until the third outpost would be seen, but we needed the refreshment. Many runners joined in and queued behind us.
We continued on through the carpark and there it was, the outpost. Jake was there taking pictures as we arrived and Spenny cheered us in and immediately set to work filling our bottles including doubling up with the jugs and doing two runners at once. Top man. We weren’t as efficient though and hung around yapping. It was here, about 30km in, that we split as a group. We’d never set out to run the whole thing together and were sort of in pairs by now, so Charlotte and Maria headed off and a little while after Nick and I followed as Fiona and Jules finished up at the outpost.
With a banana in his shorts (whey hey!) Nick ran on and I followed. After running through some fields and army land we began to climb the second largest climb of the day. This was another long, wide and twisty path, a welcome break from the sharp steps of the previous climbs.
Up top the white cliffs in the distance presented a stunning view as we ran down towards them. I recognised the next climb from the section of the route from the Endurance Life Coastal Trail Series ultra I did in 2018 (in far far worse conditions, this was a gloriously crisp and sunny autumn day compared to the overcast stormy day back in 2018). As we ran down to the cove of Pondfeld we could see the girls ahead of us on the final climb. We set up after them with Nick stopping to talk to two gentlemen hiking their way down. I carried on. The climb was the steepest and covered maybe just shy of 200m in total. The ground here was full of divots and make shift steps eroded into the hillside. Up top we looped back along the open hill. I waited and waved Nick over as he rounded the top.
We ran on and Jake appeared once more on the trail and waved us over to get some epic photos along the top of the hill. We followed the straight paths now for maybe 5 miles or so with a slight incline over the distance that helped break the run up with a few short walks. We stopped to take a picture of the Grange Arch and also stopped when we saw Jay directing runners across a road with the tunes blasting out. After the road section we stopped yet again at the final outpost where a generous runner gave Nick some of her Tailwind when he couldn’t locate his own in his pack.
We continued on the straight trails, running through fields and wide open spaces with more photo opportunities along the way. With maybe 6 miles to go, we could, for the first time sense the end of the run and were looking forward to the finish line delights. A nice gentle run down through the fields was a welcome break for the feet and quads compared to the rest of the steep descents and quad busters faced before it.
As we ran on Nick became conscious of time and that, if we kept going we’d sneak in sub 7 hours. We had no times in mind for the run, but now Nick had set his target and had his sights set on a strong finish. I’ve been there myself before. Once a time gets in your mind, you begin to focus, it is hard to let it go. I was confident he’d do it, truth is though I didn’t have the same desire burning in my heart. He started to pull away from me. As we ran the final big descent down to Corfe Castle, he opened quite a gap on me. He waited at the bottom as I filmed and then ran on, entering the forests and woodlands of the last few km where we’d run through various plantations. We estimated about 5km left to go. From here just undulating trails left to cover….
Almost immediately I lost Nick again. He was running strong. I couldn’t keep up. With the twisting forest tracks I couldn’t see him ahead of me. I once caught a glimpse of him climbing a stye at the far end of a field and disappearing into the woodlands. I was sort of loving the trails as they once more brought a huge variation to the last several hours of coastal tracks and hillside paths. Upahead was a weird wooden church type structure (like a tree house almost) which I diverted and ran through, I think to the confusion of the runner behind me. As I climbed a stye into a field I once more sore Nick up ahead and tried to speed up after him.
I’d been passing loads of runners and new Nick was playing ‘Pac-Man’ hunting them down and chomping them off. I did catch up with him eventually, but more due to a bottle neck of runners on a series of very narrow wooden plank paths as we crossed some flooded riverside areas. Together again I told him to go for it. Keep going. I’d keep up if I could.
Maybe a mile to go. Ten mins under the 7 hour barrier. We were confident. We pushed on. Rounding a few small roads into a wide gravel track we saw Maria and Charlotte ahead. As we reached them Nick excitedly exclaimed we were going for sub 7. He encouraged them too and we kept running.
Shortly after our excitement and belief started to fade away. We hit 33 miles and had 6:57 showing on the watch. Something wasn’t right. It didn’t feel like we were minutes away from finishing. Up Ahead loads of runners walking a long winding sandy path. We powered on painfully and tried to maintain focus. I tried to convince Nick to walk but he was having none of it. It felt never ending. The minutes ticked by, 7 hours passed. Undefeated we knew we’d covered the distance in the time. This was just a little extra and GPS differences. We kept going.
Nick’s determination was incredible. I’ve never run like this, he was getting stronger and faster the further he ran. Unlike in the Peaks a few weeks earlier, there was no bonking, no fading, no moaning. He was buzzing and running strong in what was only his third ultra.
We came off the sandy tracks and arrived at the cross roads where we saw the sheep sign 7 hours early. Fucking hell, this was not near the finish! There was a long road and a short forest section still to cover. We ran on, powering up the hill which I once more tried. unsuccessfully, to convince Nick to walk. We passed many more runners along this section who we’d seen hours earlier including a man and his young son running the marathon. We praised them and continued, busting into the forest and finally hearing the feint cheers at the finish line.
We then ran into the field and crossed the line with cheers from those still hanging around and the one and only PC fresh off his 9th place finish! Hero. As we grabbed a beer and coffee, Charlotte and Maria arrived too. We grabbed our bags from the car, changed, said goodbye to Charlotte who began the long drive home. With warm clothes on, we headed to the finish line just in time to cheer Fiona and Jules over the line. Despite separating with 20km to go, we all finished really close to each other.
I finished off the evening by meeting up with a few of the others who I shared two amazing weeks in Borneo with earlier in the year. They’d run the 20km course and were waiting in the pub. Bliss. A perfect end to another amazing weekend.
Less than a year ago Nick ran his first ultra, just a few months after his first marathon. We ran the Hurtwood 50 together and I described the transformation he was going through and the different versions of him as a runner I’d seen that year. Two of those were:
Nick 6.0 – Nick the running addict – He wants it all. He’s signing up to all sorts. He’s pushing, he’s challenging, the change is going exponential
Nick 7.0 – Ultra Nick – … He’s running all the time.
10 months on and I think this couldn’t be more true. The change was and still is exponential. He is seeking out challenges to push himself and test his limits. His aims and desires are radical compared to 18 months ago. He is that one friend constantly coaxing me and others into long runs, into events and races. He is the yes man who is always up for the adventure and challenge. With 3 Ultras in the last year he really is Ultra Nick now. He’s running all the time….
This was one of those events that wasn’t on my radar at the start of 2020. After The Maverick X Series Snowdon was cancelled, I changed my entry to the X Series Peaks event instead. The Maverick Race team have been incredibly accommodating throughout 2020 with all the cancellations and deferrals. I was excited by the change, you see, I’d never been to the Peak District before. I’m not sure how that was the case seeing as I like to go and explore with running, the Peak District is a trail runners paradise! Now though I would finally get that chance thanks to Maverick Race!
There were a lot of familiar faces heading from London to the Peak District and unfortunately, due to changes to the Government restrictions the week of the race, we ended up forming smaller groups to be compliant. I’d be heading north with Nick, Ale and Maria. Nick even added me to the car insurance for the weekend as it was a long journey and it would be the longest event he’d raced since he started running – his legs may not have been up to the full drive back to London!
We spent the night before the race over indulging in some fantastic food at a nearby restaurant Jon had kindly booked for us. I sure did over indulge that night and struggled to get to sleep as a result. Thankfully come the morning though I was ready for more food and Nick and I managed to get the hotel to make a bacon/sausage sandwich we could take on our run. Ale and Maria were running the Marathon distance so we’d meet up with them again after the race as Nick and I had another 13km or so to run and so started earlier.
We walked over to the event village, registered with ease (as is typical at a Maverick Race) before seeing all the familiar faces we knew – Alan, Gif, Claire, Yvette, Ben, Jon, Elisa, Lou, Sophie and Daisy, as well as all the recognisable faces volunteering and working the event. Chatting away, we all started moving into the funnel of runners being let off at 10 second intervals. Nick and I lingered fairly near the back chatting away to Daisy, Sophie and Gif. Before long it was our turn and we stepped forward together as the Geezers of Maverick Race rang the bell and sent us off on our adventure. Leaving the field Jake snapped our pictures and we exited onto the trails as we slowly began the first of many many climbs we’d experience.
The initial route saw us run alongside a hill on a cambered, single track path before joining some wider gravel trails. We lost Gif here and carried on chatting with Sophie about the day ahead. We walked the hills enjoying the company as many other runners began running past us. As always, what goes up must come down and we were soon running through some open hillside paths heading to the forest in the distance. After a brief spell of running we were reunited with Daisy and began catching up on the many months since we last ran together at the end of 2019! Plodding along with enjoyment it wasn’t long before the first marathon runner whizzed past with “Calves like bollocks” as Nick excitedly exclaimed.
It was about 4 miles in now and I was getting desperate for a toilet, which was bad timing as we approached the delight of the park surrounding Chatworth house. Sadly far, far too public to escape and relieve myself! The view of the house was spectacular in the morning sunshine. We ran through the grounds and alongside a river before exiting through a medieval kissing gate that rotated.
After leaving Chatworth house the trails began to climb again, initially up a steep road through a village and then through the dense forests of Froggat Woods before summiting near the Froggat Stone Circle. Up top there were loads of cows chilling out on the paths not one bit bothered by the runners huffing and puffing up the climb. After running the undulating hill with uninterrupted views of the surrounding area, we began our next descent which was fairly short but one of the more technical parts of the course with lots of wet, slippery rocks to navigate.
We emerged to the first aid station where we proceeded to refuel. Prawn Cocktail crisps catching my eye and getting the taste buds flowing. As we walked on, stuffing our faces, some eager runner started shouting “out of the way” as he barged through us. We were all thinking the same thing – “who is this Jerk?!” before realising it was Ale with his GoPro. Classic. He’d made maybe 20-30 mins on us after his later start, however we managed maybe just 50m together before we hit the course split where we diverted for the longer route. No sooner had we said hello then we were saying our goodbyes.
The split took us on the next climb through Bolehill Wood, just as Nick started eating his breakfast sandwich. It was steep, occasionally the hands were needed for some extra support. Not a good time to eat, and neither was the next section as we ran through some stunning white tree forests. Nick cursed at us loudly as we made him run. The route climbed and we briefly sumitted as we circled around Over Owler Tor and the vast open space of the peaks greeted us with incredible panoramic views before we ran off through some open heather-dense trails and a short decline to a road crossing.
From here we looped around the highpoint of Higger Tor and began the next long climb to the highest point on the race (a gradual climb over about 2 miles of distance). We walked and talked, enjoying everything the Peaks were giving us. We knew up top the delights of the next checkpoint would soon welcome us with another well deserved break. We hiked steadily, passing a few runners along the way including two ladies in hi-vis orange t-shirts. I remembered earlier thinking they were marshalls, but we never quite reached them. It made sense now. We also passed a couple and the girl was visibly struggling a little. They said they were ok and continued behind us as we navigated the busy trails with many walkers and hikers.
As we reached the short flat break before the last bit of climbing to the summit we saw the aid station in a tourist car park. Spenny was out there (clearly very cold in the blustering wind) supporting the runners and we spent our time chatting away as I devoured more Prawn cocktail crisps and stocked up on Haribo. Spenny sent us on our way and told us to look out for Jake taking more pictures up top. We were too slow though, we met him way before we even began the final short climb. We stopped once more to chat and as we did Sophie came jogging passed us and insisted she was running for the photo. We clapped and cheered her as Jake worked the lens.
After saying goodbye to Jake we took another moment to stop and to take out some layers and gloves. A few mins chatting at each stop, plus the exposed trails and high winds meant we were suddenly feeling the chill. We knew it would be worse further on so took the chance to address it early on. Good call! Up top was very chilly! The winds were strong and we hit them head on. Loads of walkers were enjoying the views here and we joined them for some photo opportunities before trudging on and running as much as we could across the rocky trails.
The trails were undulating and we constantly switched between a slow run and walking. With all our stopping on the way to the peak, we’d been passed by all the runners we caught on the long walk. I could see the two “Hi-vis ladies” in the distance. We ran on and saw the Maverick signs direct us sharply left where we’d begin our descent. I hadn’t seen the ladies turn off. I was certain they carried on straight and were now lost to sight of the lumpy terrain. A climber heard us discussing it and confirmed he saw them run on straight. I told Daisy and Nick to continue and I’d go after the runners and then catch up. I sprinted on straight. It wasn’t long before I could see them and soon after they could hear me shouting after them. They figured out my waving gestures and headed back towards me. I turned around and started back after Nick and Daisy, bounding down the descent with a smile on my face, but now hot. Very very hot! The faster running meant I was suddenly overheating and had to start stripping the layers away again when I caught them. About half way through the descent we reached a road and stopped once more as Nick then needed to take his jacket off. He didn’t look great and vocalised it well. He was “bonking”. 18 miles in and his legs were hurting and he needed a moment. He drank and ate and re-composed himself. No shame in admitting when something is tough. When running ultras you need to recognise these moments. Understand when they are happening and learn not to ignore them. Taking the time to address and correct them is key to continuing the race successfully. He managed it very well – he just needed a moment to refocus and agreed to continue the descent and we’d stop again at the bottom. We were moving once more and completed the descent through fields and single track paths as we headed towards the village of Hathersage. Marshals directed us through the streets and we found a quiet road to take the rest we promised.
Nick sorted himself out, finding what he needed from his pack and taking a painkiller to ease the cries from his knees. As we started out again we were joined by Gif. We carried on together for about half a km before we stopped again as we found Paul King from the Maveick Trail Division team out on the course checking runners were ok and the trail markings were still in place (There were some issues with course signs being removed the night before the event!). I was loving all the stops to chat to the volunteers and Maverick Crew. It is such a friendly company and set of events.
After leaving Paul we ran about 4 miles of fairly flat trails through more fields, alongside the river, down through allotment paths and country parks surrounded by more towering trees. We took turns to spur each other on, continuing to chat as we had non-stop all day. I could hear Nick talking away and I led on, knowing he was distracted from his aches and pains. We caught up and lost Gif once again on this section as we left Froggat. We passed another field with some young cows happily lazing on the trail path. We hoped Gif would navigate them ok – there were loads of them and they didn’t look like they would be moving anytime soon!
We had two more short but steep climbs to overcome near Stoney Middelton before we were running in the forest once more. It was tough here. We’d covered more than a marathon and the path was slightly inclined and very straight. We kept moving. Head down. Nick leading the way, high off the kick of his painkillers. We kept repeating to each other “keep going”, passing walkers as we persisted to get through this long straight, torturous trail without stopping. Eventually we did, emerging into more fields before beginning our climb up the long wide gravel path. It was another slow and ongoing hike as we walked past the quarry. We knew this was the last climb though and just a few miles would be left once we reached the top. But it felt like forever.
Eventually it came to an end and we were once more heading down, for the last time. After crossing a recently ploughed field, we joined the Monsal Trail. A walking and cycling path near Bakewell. We had about 3 km to go. No problem. Only the 3km felt like double that. It was flat, more gravel, straight and full of families and young children cycling. It was dull after all the beauty and excitement of the last 7 hours. Nick was storming ahead, getting it done. Daisy and I followed on behind him.
As we came off the trail and headed back into the Showground we knew it was done. One last run down the showground road to the finish line. Smiles all around, relieved to be off the Monsal Trail, relieved to be finishing the run, relieved to soon be heading home to warm up and eat more great food!
We hit the finish line stretch, I pulled my buff over my face and crossed the line. There were loads of our friends there cheering us in. We joined in with beers and medals as we too cheered in Gif who finished shortly after us. It was just our group and the Maveric Team remaining and for me this sums up the spirit of Maverick Race. What a community, supporting and cheering, helping out and creating an inclusive environment for all kinds of runners. Thanks again Maverick Race!